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{There was a time in my life that I guess the best description of me and my lifestyle would be described as…active?

Which means, at least to me, that I got more than my fair share of female company. The gift of gab, combined with also being on the bold side seemed to work for me.

This one happened, I probably would have jotted it down long ago but it just popped up out of the fog of many years this morning, so I thought I would get it written before I forget about it again.)


Someone was knocking on my door. Hell, it felt like the middle of the damned night but I could tell it was light outside so I got up.

I had a bit of a hangover, not too bad. The evening before I had been hitting the local clubs, such as they are. The last one was the one down on the main drag, everyone called it that but it was the only street and in a tourist haven about six blocks long.

Not exactly crawling with women, at least any interesting. The owner was an old gal that used spoons to beat on bottles like that was a big deal. Even got herself on TV doing that, funny shit.

OK, it was Gracie’s, anyone from around there knows already of course. In the Winter the place closed at around 10 PM, might as well since everyone went home before that.

Different story in the Summers, the place was packed if it wasn’t raining which it was about 80% of the time.

Plus warm on the Oregon coast is 55 degrees.

All I had on that morning was my pajama bottoms, not even socks.

They had tiny little yellow baby ducks all over them. I don’t even remember where I got them, they might have even been in that old house I bought and was fixing up.

The world’s smallest harbor, they call the place, in the middle of the Oregon coast. I ended up there almost by accident, the Arab oil embargo did in my string of gas stations, so I was between work.

I decided to buy and fix up a house, sell it and go buy another. There was a Treasury certificate at the bank, I cashed that and bought the house up on the hill for just 13 grand.

The old lady that inherited the house was so tickled to see someone that would actually spend money for the dump that she was beside herself.

Two stories, a full daylight basement, the inside of the place was like a hallway, boxes piled on boxes, every closet full of very old clothing.

The outside was a square box, with a peaked roof. Like I said, a dump.

The old man that rented the place was a pack rat, if he saw something, he wanted it and dragged it home. It didn’t matter what, old books, clothes, fishing gear, boxes of knick knacks, you name it he had two of them.

But now I was his landlord, and I wanted him out so I doubled his rent from the $200.00 per month he was paying to $400.00, damned if he didn’t pay that.

I tried to evict him a couple of times but he fought me tooth and toenail, I guess he had lived there since the ice age and did not want to move.

I also think the old bag that was the local Judge was his girlfriend or something, like most small towns there are locals and everyone else.

I was an everyone else.

Local Judges also make up their own laws, if someone doesn’t like it, go spend money and appeal.

After all, the house was filled with his “stuff.”

He kept right on paying the outrageous at the time rent, showing up a day early without almanbahis fail, demanding a reciept.

Finally I gave up and filed a no cause eviction and that worked, since by then I was smart and hired a local lawyer.

Except when he left he was pissed off at me so he left everything behind, including about a ton of garbage in the basement and a toilet so full of you know what the lid wouldn’t close.

I must have held 30 garage sales, finally I got the place to where I could see the walls after renting a 40 yard dumpster.

That was probably a mistake because then I had to paint them, the living room was honest to God purple with green trim.


I sort of remember the bullshit census form the government sent out, pages and pages of inane questions.

Fuck that, I tossed it.

Which led directly to what happened.


So I answered the door, in my pajama bottoms.

There standing on my porch was a woman, she looked to be in her early 30’s. Skirt, blouse, vest over the blouse and a clipboard in her hand.

“Yea?” I asked.

“I am with the United States Census, I need to ask you a few questions.” She had a bright smile.

“Oh, OK.” I said, letting her in.

She walked in, looked around, I pointed at my one easy chair and sat down on the couch. There were at least a half dozen empty beer bottles on the little coffee table I had rescued from the junk, she looked at that and then at me.

Then she began asking questions.

Stupid ones, but I wanted her to get done and gone, and I figured if I didn’t answer then Jimmy Carter would send the feds after me and throw me in jail.

Federal offense not to answer, it said so right on the form. Well, I took offense at government fucking with my supply chain and putting me out of business, so as far as I was concerned Jimmy Carter and the whole bunch could put it where the Sun don’t shine.

As she went through the form, she kept glancing at my bare chest. I noticed that, so I returned the favor since the white blouse she had on showed the tiniest bit of the tops of her breasts.

She noticed and blushed sweetly, I got a kick out of that.

Hell, I was just being a bit of a horse’s ass, like I said, I didn’t like government much, not after the Arab embargo deal that broke my thriving fuel company.

And this broad worked for the government.

Of course, she really wasn’t all that bad to look at, but still.


I turned a little bit her way, let my legs flop open just a bit. I was aware of having nothing at all on under my pajama bottoms, I saw her eyes drop down and check me out.

When she looked up and saw me catch her doing that, her face flamed.

I grinned, using my very best devil may care look that just gets women to come running.

Uh huh.

“Those are sure cute.” She giggled, probably pretending to be looking at the baby yellow ducks on my pajama bottoms while trying to cover the fact that she was looking at my package.

She let out an almost stifled giggle.

Then it hit me? Was this broad, this complete stranger actually getting fussed up?

That would be amazing!

In this tiny coastal burg, about the only available females had wrinkles and smelled like dead fish. If you wanted to work, you either caught fish or cut them, unless you wanted to clean motel rooms or wait almanbahis giriş on tables.

Some of them even wore rubber boots to town, and I am serious.

It was probably 3, maybe 4 mohths since the last time I got laid, that had happened on a trip up to Portland. There was a mildly tubby gal named Beverly that liked the fact that I would spend quite some time licking her pussy before jumping on.

That was something I was always careful to make sure I did and did well, after all, I wanted to keep them up for a rerun.

A man never knows when he just might run into a dry spell.

Plus I also never minded that, I really do like licking pussies, and about half the women will then go down on me right back, even if they don’t like it much.

Probably thinking of getting me to do that some more, I guess.

I also know the signs, sort of anyway. Her questions became a tiny bit halting, she kept glancing up at me and then away. She did that flip her hair back with one hand thing that women do, bounce one leg which is crossed over the other, too.

I know about those signs, I read it in a book someplace.

I felt myself begin to get fussed up, then it popped into my head to turn away, hide that.

But I didn’t, hell, I didn’t know this gal at all, what was she going to do about it?

I mean, I had on pajama bottoms! You know, with the little flap thing there so we men don’t have to take nearly everything down to take a leak?

Yep, just tug it aside and point, all there is to it, and I happened to be on the proud side of having a pretty good sized pointer.

Her eyes dropped down, from the angle she was looking I knew all she could see was the flap poking out, the gap in the front was to my right and she sat on my left.

Now I am no pervert, no flasher. I would never just whip the thing out in front of same lady I don’t know, at least not normally.

They might scream or something and there was that local Judge lady that I am sure figured me for a drug dealer or something like that.

But I was also horny as hell, and I had been that way for quite some time.

I yawned and stretched, asked her if she would like some Coffee.

Nice and innocent, it would give me an excuse to stand up and let her have a look at my six pack.

“Yes, that would be great.” She answered, so I got up and filled a couple of cups, walking back and handing her one.

When I sat back down, I put my left foot up on the couch, let my left knee flop over against the back of it.

I felt my dick slip out some, and I acted like I didn’t even notice that. The woman looked down, her eyes widened and her face flushed.

“How is the Coffee?” I asked her with a smile.

“I…It’s..uhh..wonderful.” She managed, her breath had really picked up. She was now openly staring at the end of my pecker poking out of my pajama flap.

We sat there and looked at each other for several long seconds, she had stopped asking questions.

“Why don’t you come over and sit here?” I patted the couch beside me.

That way you can just set the Coffee down on the table.” I added with a smile in case she suddenly shit a brick at me. The table really was too far away for her to reach from the easy chair.

“Oh. OK.” She stood up and walked the couple of steps over to me, and sat down in the middle of the couch rather almanbahis yeni giriş than the far end. I had to move my left leg back to the floor, that caused my dick to poke out even further.

She sat there, not saying anything, looking down. But her eyes kept drifting over to my “accidental” display.

I was reasonably certain I had her now, so emboldened, I reached out and let my hand slide over her hair. She tipped her head my way, so I reached out with my right hand and touched her waist.

“Oh!” She muttered, her eyes widened. Then she broke into a grin. At that point we both were all done pretending.

The mildest tug and she turned my way. Her right hand came over and grasped my erection.

“I…I shouldn’t…we aren’t supposed to….” She mumbled as I slid my hand inside the vest she wore and fondled her left breast through her bra.

“Oh, God.” She muttered, turning my way even more.

From there, her clothing came off quite readily, and I was correct in that she had a few extra pounds around her waist. That didn’t hurt her big round breasts one bit, either. She even lifted her hips to help me worry her panties down, they were the same tan color as her skirt.

All government like, I guess.

She had a huge mass of bushy black hair at her groin, I actually like women that way, natural.

When my mouth came down on her lower lips, she cried out, her hand grabbed my hair and she mashed me against her. I sort of used both hands to part the hedge, finding extremely ready female flesh there.

The gal was fussed up, let me tell you!

The woman was crazy for sex once I got her started, I have to admit it was fun. I stuck my finger in there, she felt all soft and puffy, so I didn’t have to do a hell of a lot of work down there to get her to squeaking very nicely.

It was around two in the afternoon before she got up and dressed, telling me she had to go do more interviews. I lay there naked, watching her as she put everything back on, adjusted it as best she could.

There was a big gob of my sperm in her hair, I don’t think she realized and I didn’t say anything.

I was standing on my porch with my baby Duck encrusted pajama bottoms back on when she opened her car door, looking back at me.

“Hey, how about coming back this evening and we can finish the interview?” I called out.

“Ok. But I can just fill it out myself, it’s all bullshit anyway.” We both laughed at that, she climbed into her car and left.

I sat there that evening waiting, finally by 11 PM I knew she was not coming.

Why I don’t know. Ashamed? Married, maybe? Afraid for her job?

Who knows?

Maybe I wasn’t as good for her as I thought I was?

Naw. It couldn’t be that, I got her three times.

I was back down at Gracie’s by midnight, it was Saturday night so they were still open.

Two of the local old women were sitting at a table nursing beers, one of them had rubber boots on.

There were two couples sitting against the wall, Cheryl was tending bar but I had already tried for her and got nowhere.

I had some plans, put up a nice deck, finish sprucing the old house up, sell it and get the hell out of this tiny town.

Cheryl set down a Bourbon and Cola, gave me a smile. Probably because I always tipped her a buck.

Later, I walked back up the hill to my investment.

In the bedroom, I tugged the sheets down and looked.

Yep, that really happened, the evidence was clear. I went to the closet and got fresh sheets, made up the bed.

What the hell, maybe government wasn’t so damned bad after all.

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